This is not a hot dog.

Yesterday was a very eventful day, starting at about 7 am when I dragged myself out of bed and to the Give it a go trip to Stratford upon Avon. This is, of course, the hometown of William Shakespeare. It was beautiful, a perfect example of what an idyllic English village would look like. The skies were blue, it smelled like summer (summer, not spring) we got to walk through nice quiet neighborhoods, and saw sheep, dogs, ducks, and a horse. It was beautiful. We didn't even go into the Shakespeare houses (too expensive, and just old houses) but we did go to Holy Trinity Church where he was buried. It was a really lovely church. Unlike some of the cathedrals and such that were in the other places I've been, it wasn't restored and made to look perfect. The outside was crumbling in places, it still looked authentic, and it was set in the middle of a beautiful, peaceful cemetery looking out over the River Avon. It was my favorite place in Stratford. I really like cemeteries. It tells a lot about a culture, I think, to see how they care for their dead. We also stopped at a cemetery that was just off the road--no famous poets, no special frills. Just a normal, English cemetery. The graves weren't that old (at least in the areas we went) but stretched from the 1920's to today. It was really beautiful and touching to see them.

On a far less depressing note, last night was the dance party madness known as Poptarts. Poptarts is a huge dance party at the Union every Saturday night. It has two rooms: 60's/70's and 80's/90's. If you don't like a song in one, you just go to the next room. The music was fantastic. All night they just kept throwing out songs you couldn't help but bop along with, fling yourself around at times, and sing at the top of your lungs. It was odd too-- in the States, when people go out dancing they generally start dancing with members of the opposite sex that they meet there/run into/think are cute. Here, no one was dancing with/approaching/talking to the people they didn't come with or did not already know. I was sure that a large group of girls, all dressed up fancy and pretty, would get some dance partners (or offers of such). Nope. Not a single guy approached us or any other girls I saw and tried to dance with her. The English reserve I suppose? Small little things like this are so strange to notice. People don't approach each other in bars either or just randomly start talking to you. Even when you bump into someone, which often leads to a short conversation, merits nothing here. Sometimes not even an "Excuse me" or the English's third favorite phrase "Sorry." I can see how people think of Americans as very forward and obnoxious, seeing as we start conversations with total strangers often. Oh well. Different strokes for different folks. At least we didn't have unwanted creeps hitting on us. I went with a bunch of people from Taptonville. Everyone, I think, had a really great time and got a great workout. Some people opted for a taxi home, but Natalie, Emily, Carl and I braved the long, uphill walk home. Our feet were killing us, but I think the extra exercise was worth it. Plus, the chats and laughs on the way were priceless.

Something I learned last night: The English cannot make hot dogs. They just can't. We paid 2.20 pounds for a hot dog each (Kiernan and I split one) and those things just were not good. I don't know what they were. But not hot dogs, as Emily will tell you.